In my room I found Queenie, sitting on my bed with a cup of tea in one hand and a biscuit in the other. She didn’t even have the grace to jump up when I came in.

“Whatcher, miss,” she said, attempting feebly to brush the crumbs from the front of her uniform.

“Queenie, you really will have to learn how to address your mistress properly,” I said. “The correct thing to say is, ‘Hello, my lady’ or ‘Welcome back, my lady.’ Is that really too hard to learn?”

“I do try,” she said, making me wonder whether she was a secret bolshie and doing this deliberately to let me know that she was my equal. This then started a whole train of thought in my mind. How much did one really know about servants? She had just shown up on my doorstep and I had no way of knowing who she really was. While I didn’t think that anyone could pretend to be as stupid as she was, maybe the same circumstances were true for other servants in the castle. Maybe one of them had come here with the express purpose of killing Pirin.

“You can help me off with my coat and boots, Queenie,” I said.

“Bob’s yer—yes, me lady,” she said. Maybe there was hope after all.

“Oh, by the way,” she added as she took my coat, “there was a message came for you from the princess. She hoped you were feeling all right because she hadn’t seen you this morning and to remind you that you were supposed to be meeting the other bridal attendants for a dress fitting at ten thirty.”

I glanced at my watch. Ten forty-five. “Oh, golly,” I said. “I’d better get going then. Oh, and give me that dress you scorched. Maybe one of the dressmakers can fix it for me if she has a moment.”

I went back down the various staircases as fast as I dared because the steps were worn and smooth and the going was treacherous. In the great hallway at the bottom I encountered Lady Middlesex and Miss Deer-Harte, still wandering around in their coats.

“We thought we might follow your example and go for a little stroll,” Lady Middlesex said. “Since the snow was apparently not too deep for you.”

“It was lovely out there,” I said, trying to convey enthusiasm. “A walk is a good idea. Good fresh mountain air.” I didn’t add the word “freezing” to that sentence. At least I’d done what Darcy had asked and sent them out of the way for a while. I didn’t think even someone as hearty as Lady Middlesex could take that kind of cold for long, however.